Ephemeral architecture, understood as architecture not meant to last over time, has accompanied humanity since its earliest days, even if it wasn’t always called that. From the collapsible temples of Ancient Egypt to the theatrical sets of the Baroque, and the pavilions of the 19th-century World’s Fairs, ephemeral architecture has provided the setting for the exceptional: celebrations, rituals, fairs, art installations or public events. But it was from the 20th century onward that this practice was conceptualized more clearly, breaking away from traditional monumentality to open the door to new ways of experiencing space.
In that century, the concept took on a new dimension thanks to the artistic and cultural movements seeking to break away from established norms. The Archigram group, for example, proposed in the 1960s a mobile, modular, temporary architecture as a critical alternative to rigid, mass urban planning. In that same decade, figures like Yona Friedman and Cedric Price explored the possibility of flexible, adaptable, short-lived structures as a response to a changing society — more dynamic and less dependent on fixed ways of dwelling.
But ephemeral architecture wasn’t just a conceptual experiment. It also became fertile ground for technical and material innovation. Temporary pavilions at international exhibitions, such as Mies van der Rohe’s German Pavilion in 1929 or Le Corbusier and Xenakis’s Philips Pavilion in 1958, marked milestones in how space could be thought about without the obligation of permanence, freely exploring new technologies, structural forms and lightweight materials.
Over time, ephemeral architecture has evolved from experimental circles toward much broader, more accessible uses. At a moment when tourism prioritizes experience over infrastructure, temporary structures have become a strategic tool for generating value without the need for permanent construction.
Festivals like Burning Man in the Nevada desert have taken this idea to the extreme: temporary cities that emerge and disappear without a trace, inhabited for just a few days by thousands of people. In other contexts, such as accommodation, pop-up hotels, seasonal pavilions, or collapsible capsules have emerged, all designed to offer a unique, intense, time-limited experience.
According to a Booking.com report (2023), 73% of travelers worldwide prefer experiences over material goods, and 55% feel more drawn to unconventional accommodation that lets them “experience something different.” Ephemeral architecture responds directly to this demand. Its adaptable, lightweight, reversible nature not only helps reduce environmental impact, but also enables new ways of inhabiting a space: more flexible, more emotional and, in many cases, more memorable.
In this context, structures like Skybubbles can be understood as a coherent evolution of this tradition. Born at the intersection of lightweight architecture, sustainability and immersive design, Skybubbles pick up the legacy of ephemeral architecture and adapt it to the current challenges of the tourism sector.
Unlike the purely artistic or conceptual installations of the 20th century, Skybubbles offer real, scalable solutions for accommodations looking to stand out. Setting them up requires no foundations, their impact on the land is minimal, and their integration into the landscape is visually respectful. At the same time, they give the guest a deeply sensory experience: sleeping under the stars, surrounded by nature, without giving up comfort.
Far from being a passing trend, Skybubbles represent a way of rethinking how we inhabit the temporary. From a functional standpoint, yes; but also from an emotional one. It’s an architecture that doesn’t seek to impose itself on its surroundings, but to disappear into them, accompanying the traveler through an experience that, precisely because it’s fleeting, becomes unforgettable.